Thirst
by Choice Creations
Summary: A series about how Kristina and Parker met and started their friendship...or was it a romance from the beginning...
1. Chapter 1

Kristina shuffled through the classroom door a second after the buzzer sounded.

 _On time_ , she thought, _and I don't even want to be here_.

Bleary-eyed and barely awake, everything was a blur of faces, ironic t-shirts, sweat pants, and bed-heads. She walked past someone who looked like a grown up only because it was standing at the front of the class and wasn't as disheveled as the other seated students as she made her way to the back of the room. A lone, vacant chair behind two other students beaconed her. It looked secluded, comfortable; the perfect place to lay her head down.

The jello shots with her friends on the school night before were still in party mode over her left brow; the tequila stumbled in a drunken stupor at the back of her throat, threatening to lurch into her mouth.

Kristina didn't even know what lured her out of her comfortable bed in the first place to make it to class today and on time - she was on time, right? It was obvious that the jello and tequila needed a day off from thinking too hard, taking notes, and trying to focus. But as a reward for making the effort, Kristina would take it easy and concentrate with her eyes closed - really closed - to keep an imminent migraine at bay; one that could knock her out for the rest of day and provide her with a sufficient excuse for skipping her remaining classes.

 _I showed up and_ that's _the point,_ Kristina thought in the warm fold of her arm that she nuzzled her head into; her cheek rested on the cool, laminate table top. The professor's preamble to the course and review of the syllabus lulled Kristina into a timeless, light doze.

Kristina didn't know how many classes she had skipped. She didn't care. It didn't matter. This was the easiest elective she could get a good mark in. She checked; attendance wasn't graded. All she had to do was hand in a couple of assignments, do an open-book midterm and an open-book final and voila. That's all she needed to know to get by.

"' **She is free in her wildness, she is a wanderess, a drop of free water** ," the professor said aloud. She paused, raised her eyes from the book that she was reading from to ensure that she had captured her students' attention. When she was convinced that she had, she continued, " **'She knows nothing of borders and cares nothing for rules or customs. 'Time' for her isn't something to fight against. Her life flows clean, with passion, like fresh water.'** "

The professor's voice gradually cut through the film of silence that had blocked Kristina's ears. Every word the professor spoke pierced the blackness between Kristina's eyelids and dreamland. Kristina didn't know how long she had been out, but she was awake now. Really awake.

The rhythm of the professor's voice, the sureness of her words, how firm she stood in the statement, felt like it was being spoken to Kristina. About Kristina.

 _That's so me._

Kristina raised her head. Weeks into the semester and Kristina realized that she was seeing this professor for the first time. She had eyes that drew Kristina into them. A sturdy chin that was slightly raised but not to the level of being snobbish, just high enough to assess every aspect of her surroundings with care. Her posture was erect like a ballerina in first position. She sat on the edge of the desk with her shoulders gracefully back, one foot on the floor, the other raised; even her thighs looked powerful spread apart like that. The desk itself looked like it had submissively lent it's back for her to sit on.

"That was written by Roman Payne," the professor said as she closed the book, "a prolific novelist and biographer who had an exceptional ability to take literary snapshots of other people's lives and put them in words. Having lived through two world wars, he wrote biographies about Greta Garbo, Dostoevsky, Gandhi, General Mao, just to name a few." - the professor pauses - "Please don't all look at me with blank stares at once.

"Google them", said the professor, writing the four historical figure's names on the whiteboard. "So today we're going to explore the human condition, identity, and consciousness. Any thoughts about Payne's quote?"

No hands went up. No voluntary opinions were blurted. Students looked down at their notebooks, up at the clock at the front of the classroom, out the window. The proverbial sound of crickets chirping was the only commentary the professor received until a tired and resigned voice finally said, "Wildness...passion...knows nothing of borders..cares nothing for rules..."

The professor couldn't tell who had spoken, she just knew that the voice had come from the back of the room.

Kristina continued, "People - some people who believe they care about you, like your parents or siblings - can see these things, this way of being as flaws. Qualities that make someone, especially a young woman susceptible to recklessness, getting hurt, or risks, like falling for the wrong person. You know that kinda fall that's so hard you never quite get up? Well, I don't see it that way. I think these qualities make me...uh, I mean, make a person feel, like...I don't know...alive."

The professor didn't strike Kristina as someone who could be easily moved. She seemed so reticent, cultured; she had probably been tenured at the College for years. Although the professor maintained a guarded air, Kristina detected a hint of surprise on the professor's face. Kristina thought she saw a glimmer of a smile in the professor's eyes, her brow twitch, and perhaps the corner of her mouth curved up a bit - barely noticeable - but a bit.

Now that the professor had found the source of the speaker, Kristina straightened up in her seat. She ran her fingers through her hair for the dual purpose of making herself more presentable now that the professor's eyes were on her and also to do something with her hands which suddenly felt awkward on the end of her wrists. Every inch about Kristina felt awkward now that the professor held her eye contact.

"That's the most postmodern interpretation I've ever heard in all my years of teaching," the professor commented.

A third into the semester and it was the first time the professor had ever seen this student. She would have remembered her if she had attended class regularly or came at all. There was an irreverence about her - even a bit of an attitude - which reminded the professor of someone she used to know in her own College days. Someone the professor had known. very. well.

"Do you care to elaborate?" the professor asked Kristina. Yes, the professor would have definitely noticed this student the first time she walked into her class.

A sea of heads turned to look at Kristina who felt like a thousand eyes were trained on her. The most penetrable of them all being the professor's. Right. Through. Her.

Kristina shook her head, no, and lowered her eyes.

"Well, I think what you said is worthy of comment," the professor answered Kristina's refusal. "Anyone else?"

A hand raised in the second row whose commentator piggy-backed on what Kristina had said, followed by another comment by another student until a wave of discussion buoyed the class to the end of the period. Kristina remained silent through the rest of the class but didn't put her head down to rest again. She felt too light-headed and mildly pleased with herself to do anything. The professor had noticed her.

The class ended with the swirling energy of awakened, young minds and shared opinions that discussed, dissected, validated, and debated. Chair legs scraped back, papers rustled, backpack zippers opened and closed as students nudged past each other out the door to their next lesson. Kristina didn't know whether to pack up fast enough and get lost among the flow of exiting students, or to linger behind so she could be in the professor's presence just a minute longer than everyone else.

Kristina managed to be the last student to head out the door on the heels of a sneakered boy and just as Kristina's foot touched the threshold, she heard the professor say, "Thanks for joining us today."

And when Kristina so boldly looked over her shoulder into the professor's eyes, very aware that they were the only two people in the room now…

' _Wha_ ', was the only complete thought Kristina could manage to form in her mind as she turned away and hurried down the hall.


	2. Chapter 2

" **'...it isn't lust; it's all the rest of what I want with you that scares me shitless.'** ," the professor read the last sentence of the poem, then paused a moment to let the words sink in. "... **it's all the rest of what I want with you that scares me...'** "

The professor raised her eyes to address her students, "Marilyn Hacker, a 20th century poet who knows no boundaries to her needs and who is uninhibited by her desires. Your assignment is to show me no boundaries to yours."

At that very moment - at the word, 'yours' - Kristina's world seemed to stop because the professor's eyes stopped on her and wouldn't. let. go.

'Yours,' reverberated in Kristina's ears, her stomach dropped into her knees, her head felt like it was filled with helium.

Kristina looked at her hands to ensure that they weren't visibly trembling. They were still - clammy but still - just trembling from the inside. She massaged the back of her neck, shifted in her seat. Without looking up, she could still feel the professor's eyes on her.

"In two weeks," the professor said to the class. The professor's attention seemed to finally draw back from Kristina's shoulder where Kristina felt like it had just settled there - breathy and expectant - waiting for Kristina to turn to it. "I want to see what you deliver. Until then, see you on Friday. This Friday. On time."

* * *

Walking across campus, Kristina's mind was still in the classroom.

 _What am I supposed to turn in?_ Kristina thought. _What does_ she _want me to turn in?_

The second question stopped Kristina in her tracks.

 _It shouldn't matter what she wants. What am I thinking?_

Kristina didn't know anymore.

"Hey!" a call in her direction snapped her back to the grassy path that lead to her next class. "You're in my history class, right?"

A vaguely familiar face approached her. It was a good looking face; sweet yet rugged with a firm chin. He was tall, his shoulders, broad and his chest buff.

 _Just my type. Oh ya._

A welcoming and more than interested smile formed on Kristina's face as she walked toward him.

"If you're taking history with that woolly faced professor with the shirt stains," she said with a quick flick of her head that made her hair cascade down one shoulder. "Then yes."

He chuckles, "Ya, that's him. Listen I, um, missed last class...and the one before that. Can I borrow your notes?"

"I would say yes," Kristina replied, "but I seem to be on that 'independent' track too." - Kristina air quoted her fingers - "You know the one where you attend class when you feel like it because your parents are using their hard earned cash to foot the bill?"

"Looks like we have something in common," he answered with a smile. "Maybe we could not attend class together some time."

But Kristina didn't hear his offer because, like a bad connection, his last phrase got garbled by something else that caught Kristina's attention. Someone else was speaking to her. Not in words but with body language.

The professor walked across campus right into Kristina's periphery. Even from a distance - far enough for the professor not to notice Kristina's unbroken stare but close enough for Kristina to notice the professor's commanding stride - Kristina was dumbstruck. The way the professor's clothes fit her as a cultivator of minds - refined, professional, sleek - and fit her body - her trim, stately shape - Kristina couldn't take her eyes off her.

Kristina had never noticed a teacher like this before. Teachers were generic, staid, nondescript, affected, boring. But this professor, she was...wow. She was the goosebumps prickling up Kristina's arms.

"Hello? Earth to history class girl?"

It took Kristina a minute to remember who this guy was standing in front of her with the all too eager look in his eyes. She blinked at him, then blinked again before she answered, "Huh?"

"Hey, I don't know where you went," he said, "but I wish I was there."

"Ya," Kristina responded absently while her gaze wandered in the direction of the building the professor disappeared into. An image of the professor's lips mouthing the word 'yours' crossed Kristina's mind. "Ya, me too."


	3. Chapter 3

"You really put a lot of effort into this assignment," the professor announced to the class. "I received some rather creative pieces."

The professor always projected her voice like she was talking to an auditorium of hundreds, not a windowed, white-lit classroom of 45 students. Kristina beamed at the professor's command of her class; of the professor's command on her. It's like the professor's voice grabbed Kristina by the collar of whatever she was wearing - even when it didn't have a collar - and asked, "Are you paying attention? I thought so."

And those eyes; they had a way of cutting Kristina down to her knees. She could barely hold the professor's gaze when their eyes met. Kristina was always the first to look down or to look away.

"They were intriguing, bold, courageous and...explicit," the professor continued raising an eyebrow while muffled chuckles scattered about the classroom. "It only took me two days to read through it all. It read like a unified body of work, a collection I couldn't put down. I'm rather impressed."

Nods of approval bobbed around the classroom and eyes widened.

Kristina had labored for days over what she was going to hand in, not about what she was going to write; that came easy. Kristina had written tons about her needs, about her desires, about...her. The assignment almost became an obsession, an excuse to finally spew everything that was in her mind - on the tip of her tongue, in her guts, in her blood, in her daydreams - on paper. Writing out the words made everything Kristina was feeling inside visible even though she didn't understand what it all meant. The professor had, in some strange way, gotten in her and Kristina's words were the only way to get her out.

But Kristina didn't hand in those words on the due date. Those words never reached the professor's inbox. The pieces that Kristina wrote about the professor - the pieces of her - she kept in the cloud where they would stay forever, Kristina vowed. Forev-her.

The free prose-poem hybrid she handed in was the safest Kristina could get to saying what she really felt disguised in metaphor and allegory. She wasn't really sure what she felt. It was a blend of flushed cheeks, bees in her stomach, eye contact avoidance yet a nagging curiosity to get closer, to penetrate deeper.

There was something dangerous - sexy even - knowing that the professor would read her piece without knowing it was about her. It was like a secret love letter.

 _That's strange._ Kristina shook herself out of her own reverie. ' _Love letter'? Impossible._

Kristina had noticed that she had been having these strange thoughts and feelings lately. No, not lately, ever since she started attending this professor's class which she now never skipped and showed up to on time. It was like she - Kristina - was another person, or worse, like she had some sort of split personality. She wasn't herself. Or was she? Was she losing it?

 _Love letter? The jitters? Get a grip, you're acting like you're in...and that's just crazy._

"In fact," the professor continued addressing the class, "I was so impressed that I selected a few submissions to share aloud with the class today. So when I call your name, please come up."

Kristina shot straight up in her seat knocking her notebook, car keys, and a pen to the floor. A few disinterested heads turned to look at her. Kristina's eyes locked with the professor's.

 _Don't pick me. Please don't pick me. Oh my god, don't pick me._

Couched in metaphor, allegory or not, those words - the ones Kristina painstakingly crafted - were for the professor's eyes only, not to be tossed out at random to a bunch of 20-something year olds just trying to get through an elective required to round out their semester's credits. She wished the professor could read her mind. Kristina felt like she could.

"I know I'm springing this on you," the professor acknowledged her students, "and some of you are probably not prepared to do this, so it's voluntary. You can choose to pass."

The professor looked at a small stack of sheets in her hand, "Michaels. We'll start with Jonathan Michaels."

A tall guy with a swimmer's body stood up. With dark shaggy hair and a smug grin, he made his way confidently to the front of the class. His surefire delivery was exactly the opposite of what Kristina felt anticipating that her name would be called. Kristina couldn't even pay attention to what he was saying, too fretful that one of those sheets on the desk could be hers. But she had an out and that's all she cared about. She could pass. But how would that look?

 _Why do I care so much about what she thinks? Stop it already._

Kristina thought through the words of her piece. If she was called to read, was there anything incriminating that would reveal….what? What exactly would it reveal? Besides, what she felt wasn't a crime. It was just...confusing.

 ** _Connections*_**

 _Intersections of chance and near misses  
Crossing unexpectedly  
Never with the intention to collide  
But accidents happen and when they do we retreat and ask why? Why me?  
Ask how? How me?_

 _And surrounded by the smoking mangled wreckage there's an obsessive desire to know, to understand, to make sense of, to learn from.  
To learn from, to embrace, and to accept that nothing, from this point onward, will ever be the same again.  
_

 _It's that same driving desire that wants to make it all right again  
To make it the new normal  
To understand that even THAT type of connection  
THAT type of destructive, unexpected force, was needed, fated, to awaken a type of yearning  
That sets us on a new path  
To make new connections  
_ _back  
to ourselves._

Kristina didn't notice that the other guy had finished sharing his work and a girl was now reading hers. Kristina looked at her phone's display. Fifteen minutes before class was over.

 _Oh girl, whoever you are, please let your piece be 15 minutes long._

But it wasn't and the girl finished and smiled at her classmates' clapping approval before she returned to her seat. Kristina watched the professor pick up the stack of sheets on her desk and leaf through it; shuffling one sheet behind the next as if she was looking for something, looking for someone. Every movement the professor made was like watching a scene in slow motion. Even the crinkle of each sheet between the professor's fingers sounded crisp and loud. Kristina gulped when the professor finally selected a sheet like she was about to reveal her hand in a tense poker game.

"Kristina Davis," the professor announced. She looked around the class to see who would respond.

Kristina flinched at the sound of her own name rolling off the professor's tongue. But that's all she did. She didn't say 'yes' and she didn't move. Her heartbeat pulsed in her ears.

"Kristina?" the professor asked and waited for a student to rise from their seat or at least to say something. "Okay, she's either not here or that's a pass."

"No, um, it's me," Kristina spoke up. She took a deep breath. "I'll read."

The professor tilted her head curiously at Kristina, then looked down at the piece.

"This is yours?" the professor asked.

"Yes."

The professor extended the sheet toward Kristina all the while looking right at her. Kristina made the walk from the back of the class to the front - a mere six steps - as slow as possible. She took her piece from the professor, and faced her peers.

Kristina cleared her throat and began, "Connections - "

The end of period buzzer sounded, chairs scraped back, and backpack zippers opened and closed. Class was over and students nudged their way out the door.

Kristina stood frozen at the front of the class white-knuckling her piece with two hands anticipating that she would be alone in the room with the professor once everyone had left. The professor stood a safe distance behind Kristina, patiently waiting for the room to empty and to be quiet so that Kristina could continue.

* * *

*Original piece by ChoiceCreations. I claim all rights.


	4. Chapter 4

"Gifted" was the word that Kristina carried around with her all day; from class to class, across campus, during study breaks and at lunch. No, she didn't carry it around, she owned it; she floated on it. That's how the Professor described Kristina when she finished reading her piece that day they had the classroom all to themselves. Kristina read her piece to a room of empty chairs without a whole bunch of eyes on her except for the pair that watched her from behind. It was a relief to not look directly at the Professor as Kristina read. There was also something mysterious - seductive even - knowing that the Professor was behind her, nearby although Kristina couldn't see her; close enough to hear her sigh and make slight movements, yet far enough to not touch.

As she walked aimlessly on the campus grounds between classes, a secret grin formed on Kristina's face when she remembered the Professor putting a hand on her shoulder that day and saying, "In all my years of teaching, you are one of a handful of bright lights I've come across who have so much potential." She squeezed Kristina's shoulder ever so gently. For days afterward, while she showered or got dressed, Kristina absently touched the impression the Professor's fingers had left there.

Kristina didn't miss a class since. She showed up every week, participated - sometimes or not. She just mostly went to watch the Professor. How her mouth moved and lips formed words, how her head tilted when she was really listening, how she walked the aisles; her gestures and hand placements.

Kristina was always the last to leave class and to share a quick over-the-shoulder smile with the Professor as she walked out the door. There were never any words to say, "Thank you for being…." whoever she was becoming to Kristina.

*ping*

Kristina scrambled in her bag to read the new email that arrived in her inbox.

 **From: Forsyth, Parker (Prof)**

Forsyth. Foresight. The Future.

 _Is this a sign?_ Kristina thought.

Kristina's heart beat a little faster. She took a deep breath as her finger hovered over the message ready to tap it open. She looked around to see if anyone was nearby. God forbid a friend surprised her by reading the Professor's message over her shoulder. In fact, Kristina didn't want anyone to know that the Professor sent her an email.

Kristina spotted a tree with just the right amount of shade to sit under. She might was well be sitting down when she opened it.

 _What did she send me?_

Seated comfortably on the slightly dewy grass, Kristina took a swig from her water bottle to refresh her parched throat. She looked at her phone again.

 **From: Forsyth, Parker (Prof)  
Subject: Available for Office Hours**

 _She wants to see me...alone._

Kristina tapped the message open.

"Hey history class girl!"

Kristina jumped out of her skin at the sound of an enthusiastic voice intruding her moment.

"Nice day to skip class, huh," said Eager Eyes as he settled himself cozily beside Kristina who quickly slipped her phone into her bag.

"Ya," Kristina answered trying her best not to look or to sound annoyed. "Actually I'm not skipping. I'm cramming for a test next period. I have a test next period...in about an hour so I, uh, I need to continue cramming."

"Oh, it looked like you were swiping left, swiping right. That sort of thing. That's why I came over."

"My notes are on my phone. Really...really important notes. I actually want to pass this class. So…"

"Say no more. Say no more," he said getting to his feet as quickly as he had sat down. "So, I'll see you around then?"

Without answering, Kristina sardonically smiled Eager Eyes on his way while he stared longingly at her as he backed up, one slow step at a time. He turned on his heels just in time before he smacked right into their history professor, Wooly Face, who happened to be crossing the same path at that moment. They did a clumsy side-step, quick two-step around each other; their near collision made Kristina laugh. Then she remembered.

 _The message!_

Kristina grabbed her phone out of her bag and tapped.

 **From: Forsyth, Parker (Prof)  
Subject: Available for Office Hours**

 **Dear Students,**

The salutation fell with a thud in Kristina's chest. It wasn't for her. It was for everybody.

 _What was I thinking? Why would_ she _send_ me _a personal message? It's not like I'm special or anything._

Being around the Professor made Kristina feel special.

 **Dear Students,**

 ** **I'm cancelling this Friday's and next Tuesday and Wednesday's classes d** ue to an unexpected matter that I need to address out of town. I will be unavailable and unreachable by email the entire week leading into midterms. **

**In order to make up for this disruption to my and your schedules, I have office hours available tomorrow for one-on-ones if you have questions or need guidance as you prepare for the exam.**

 **As I teach three classes, spots are limited and I can't meet with each of you before I leave. Tomorrow's my last day on campus until I return the following Monday so I encourage you to sign up at this** **link** **soon.**

 **Sincerely,  
Professor Forsyth**

Kristina re-read the word, "one-on-one", which made her blush. Clicking on the link, Kristina scrolled down the booking schedule.

Filled with a student's name.

Filled.

Filled.

Filled.

…

Every spot was taken. Kristina scrolled back up the schedule just to make sure. Every. last. one. She thought for a moment, then Kristina scrolled down to the very last time slot which read:

 **3:45 pm Jeffrey C.**

There was no way that this whats-his-name was going to be the last person to see the Professor before she left for a whole week. No way.

 _Sorry, Jeffrey. There's just not enough room in this time slot for the two of us._


	5. Chapter 5

As Kristina made her way down the hall, lined on either side by faculty offices, she saw a student enter the Professor's. Her phone display read 3:30 pm. Just as she planned.

In the waiting area, Kristina found a seat which was exactly five easy steps from the Professor's door. Five steps was all she needed between her, the office door, and whats-his-name who was scheduled to arrive by 3:45 pm.

Kristina tried to settle comfortably in a chair and to casually browse her phone, but she couldn't. She listened for footsteps coming down the hall towards the Professor's office but every noise distracted her. Other professors' doors opened, closed, or were clicked locked; there were cordial greetings, an angry reproach, and sometimes sobs and sniffles. She heard a student slam a door, curse against a prof's mother, and stomp down the hall.

Impatience getting the better of her, Kristina tiptoed right up to the Professor's door and leaned her ear against it, straining to hear the conversation being had with the student inside. Nothing. Kristina sat back down.

What she was about to do ranked really low on the shady scale and, in Kristina's experience of schemes and cover ups, this didn't even rank at all. This was a low grade lie that she wasn't going to lose any sleep over.

Then she heard them. The muffled slap, slap, slap of sneakered feet approached, accompanied by the buzz of a soundtrack played too loudly in someone's earbuds.

 _It's him._ Kristina thought as she hurriedly stood up letting her bag drop to the floor. 1-2-3-4-5 she took her position.

A short, barrel-chested, keg-bellied guy came into view, bobbing his head to the loud music Kristina could hear before she even saw him. His loose hanging pants sagged so low that the tattered hem brushed the ground with his every step.

"Hey!" Kristina waved at him to get his attention. "Jeffrey, right?"

The attitude in his faced stopped Kristina from saying any more. He pulled the buds out of his ears and asked, "What?"

"You're Jeffrey, right? You have a 3:45 with the prof. I mean, Professor Forsyth."

"Ya," he looked Kristina up and down like she was something he stepped in. "What's it to you?"

"You see, that's just it. Absolutely nothing, but, um, you see she's gone. She had to leave early...earlier than expected. I just came out her office and uh, she got this call and had to go. Just like that."

Kristina gestured her hand like a plane taking off.

"Seriously?" he spat.

"I know it's weird, huh?" Kristina said. She took a quick look at the office's doorknob and listened for any subtle sounds of an imminent exit from the other side. "Yup, she's gone for the day."

"Shit!" Jeffrey said loudly, startling Kristina. "I'm so screwed. I needed her to...aaaarrrgh!"

"I know, I know," Kristina feigned disappointment. She put her hand on Jeffrey's shoulder, giving him a gentle nudge to turn around. "We all need her but I was the last person she saw today."

To Kristina's relief, Jeffrey dragged his feet back down the hall. The weight of disappoint pulled his pants further down his backside. In frustration, he hit a random closed door with his fist to which Kristina heard a professor behind the door respond with, "Who is it?"

When Kristina was sure Jeffrey was out of earshot, she turned on her heels and rested against the Professor's door frame. At that moment the knob clicked, the door opened, and the student who had just met with the Professor left closing the door behind her.

Kristina took a few deep, cleansing breaths to prepare herself for being in a small, intimate space with the Professor...alone...with the door closed. She gulped, positioned her hand to knock when the door swung open. Kristina almost found herself knocking on the Professor's face. She couldn't put her hand down fast enough.

"Oh," the Professor said sounding surprised. She had her briefcase and keys in hand and a jacket slung over her arm. "You're not Jeffrey."

"No, uh," Kristina stammered. "Jeffrey who?"

"It doesn't matter. This is working out after all. I was going to cancel with him anyway. I have to leave."

Kristina was speechless.

"Everything's okay," the Professor responded to what she assumed was a look of concern on Kristina's face. "I had to move my plans up. I'm sorry, did you need to see me? I didn't see your name on the sign up."

"Uh, yes. I did want to see you about…before the midterm. I have a few questions."

The Professor looked at her watch, then asked, "Do you live on or off campus?"

Kristina's eyes widened, then her words tripped over themselves as she said, "Um, uh off campus toward Main."

"Great, I'm going in that direction. I'll give you a lift and we can talk in my car. But we have to leave now."

Kristina stood frozen in place as she felt the Professor whoosh past her and heard her heels click rapidly down the hall.

A grin slowly brightened Kristina's face.

 _Coming._ She thought scurrying behind the Professor. _Coming!_


	6. Chapter 6

The Professor drove a practical car, a black Volkswagen Jetta. While she put her items in the trunk, Kristina settled in the passenger seat and touched the leather interior. She then rested her hand on the gear shift for a moment, gripping the handle that the Professor touched every day. The whole car smelled of the Professor. It was like Kristina was wrapped in her, surrounded by her, contained in her. Kristina inhaled deeply and a scintillating chill spread under her skin.

The driver door opened and Kristina watched the Professor get in. First, her leg - she wore a knee-length, pencil skirt - then the way she shimmied into her seat and fastened her seat belt. The Professor smiled at Kristina, who suddenly looked away as if she had been caught doing something that she shouldn't have been. Not just looking at the Professor; but looking at her like that.

In the small space between them, the car smelled liked the Professor more than ever and Kristina blushed. The Professor started the engine, pulled out of the parking spot, and Kristina relaxed into her seat.

After a silent minute or two, the Professor asked, "So what's on your mind?"

 _You!_ Kristina felt like screaming, but instead she said, "We covered a lot of themes so far like desire, the human condition, post-modernism, feminist theory, power dynamics. What's the midterm going to focus on ?"

The Professor took her eyes off the road to look at Kristina for a brief moment. It felt like an embarrassing eternity to Kristina because the expression on the Professor's face seemed to say, 'Are you kidding me?'

The Professor asked, "Are you sure this is how you want to use your time with me?"

Kristina's brain blipped to a blue screen. She had nothing.

"I mean," Kristina stammered. "It's, it's a lot of topics, we covered a lot of ground..."

"Yes, there are and yes we did." The Professor's tone turned impatient. "Look Kristina, if you're unsure - "

"So why do you do this?" Christina said abruptly cutting the Professor off.

"Excuse me?" The Professor was taken aback, not so much by Kristina's interruption, but by Kristina's irreverence.

"Teach. I mean, why do you…teach us? Why bother? We're such an aimless and self-absorbed generation. And you stand up there in every class forcing us to think about who we really are and what we believe. Don't you feel like it's a waste of your time?"

"I love what I do."

"You should be going around the country giving Ted Talks or something. Inspiring people who really want to apply their lives."

"Well, I do this because I believe in what you call an 'aimless, self-absorbed generation'. I see it differently."

The Professor paused to make a left. An oncoming car passed before she turned into the intersection.

"Awareness comes with challenges," the Professor continued. "My intention is to challenge my students and their understanding and unquestioned acceptance of the status quo. Deconstruct what they believe about themselves. Dismantle what they believe about their place in the world. Guide them to create new ideas so they won't be so complacent in their 'aimlessness' and 'self-absorption'.

"Like you wrote in your piece the other day, 'find a new normal' that they create for themselves instead of blindly accepting beliefs handed down by previous generations, traditions, parents, or what's expected of them. We're on Main, do I go left or right?"

Kristina had forgotten that there was a destination to this car ride. The Professor was driving her home. Time hadn't moved from the moment Kristina had gotten into the car until now. For all she knew, time had stopped and all Kristina was aware of was the present; her presence.

"Kristina?" the Professor asked. "I have to make a decision before the light changes."

"Uh, left," Kristina lied. Her place was on the right. She didn't want the ride to end.

"The exam," the Professor said into the turn, "will be based on how well each student processes the material we've covered - the passages, the quotes, the theories - in a way that's insightful about who they are as individuals. It should be a new awareness they bring to the table, to themselves, a new outlook they bring to the world."

"Two more lefts," Kristina said. "Then on the corner will be fine."

"I feel like I'm driving in circles," the Professor mumbled to herself, then continued to address Kristina. "What I'm saying is, there's no one right answer. I just don't want to see anything handed back to me verbatim. It's an open-book midterm, but this isn't a rote test. I won't accept that. From anyone. It's a test all right, but a test of what you're discovering yourself to be."

The Professor pulled up to the corner and idled her car.

"You see Kristina, I do this because I believe in possibility. I believe in you."

An overwhelming warmth spread through Kristina when the Professor caressed Kristina's hand that rested in her lap.

Kristina didn't dare pull her hand away.


	7. Chapter 7

This was one of the best days of Kristina's life. She was so wired up and giddy that it was almost midnight before she could finally settle down. She could barely eat dinner, she showered with a smile on her face that she couldn't wash off, and when she spoke to Molly, and then to Alexis that evening, they both asked if she was okay. Kristina tried to catch up on her Tweets, watch a movie, read through her Facebook feeds but she just couldn't concentrate. She even turned down a couple of texts from her friends to meet up. Her mind kept on wandering back to the car ride with Parker.

 _Parker_ , she thought dreamily.

When Kristina finally tore herself away from the Professor's inviting touch in the car and had reached the front steps of her place, the Professor rolled down the driver's window and called out her name, motioning for Kristina to come back.

Kristina tipped her head into the open window. She was close enough to see the smile lines around the Professor's mouth, the wise lines that crossed her brow, and the thoughtful lines about her eyes. They were beautiful. They made her beautiful. Kristina was close enough to...

"I'm glad we had this time together," the Professor spoke before Kristina could act on her impulse. "It was more than I expected, from you or any other student I've taught. I really want you do well on the midterm."

"Thank you, Professor," Kristina acknowledged.

The Professor smiled in a way that made Kristina feel like she was being laughed at her or poked fun of.

"You can call me, 'Parker', Kristina. You can call me 'Parker' now."

And at 'now', Parker placed her hand atop Kristina's which rested on the window frame.

Later that evening during a phone call, Molly had asked if she was drunk or high and Kristina defended that she wasn't but couldn't find the words to tell Molly why she sounded like she was walking on a cloud.

Lying in bed, Kristina played back the car ride with Parker, their conversation, Parker touching her hand the first time and then again. Parker's hand had fit like a shell of warmth over Kristina's. Parker was still with her; her palm, her fingers, their strength. The way she sheltered Kristina's hand, held it and streamed life into it; poured life into her.

With sheer delight Kristina silently screamed into the palms of her hand and kicked her feet wildly on the bed. And that's when she smelled her. Parker's scent was on Kristina's hand. Kristina inhaled again.

Parker smelled like a sprinkling of confidence, integrity, and intelligence with aromatic hints of responsible power, sincerity, and certainty. It was a perfect combination and Kristina wondered what Parker tasted like if she smelled that good.

 _Parker._ Kristina formed the name in her mind, then mouthed the name on her lips.

She passed the back of her hand against her cheek, then nose. Parker's scent seemed to have an energy, freedom, and movement of its own.

"Parker," Kristina whispered over and over again.

The scent found its way to a special place where it waited, contemplated, and teased. It peaked and, with a mischievous wriggle, slithered on knowing exactly where it wanted to go; where it needed to go.

Parker's scent was gentle but persistent. It was playful, yet determined. It sought and found and was now committed. Committed to making Kristina breathe a little faster, her heart beat a little harder, her body feel a little warmer. Committed to losing Kristina in its rapture. It lapped Kristina up like an unquenchable thirst. In deep waters, there was treasure. It simultaneously suspended Kristina above reality and made her forget who she is and made her forget who she was. And made her forget who she was before she met Parker and made her wonder who she was becoming now that Parker had come into her life. And she was coming, and she was coming, and she was coming…

"Parker," Kristina said aloud as a series of rocking spasms tore through every inch of her.

When the waves of pleasure subsided and soothed her into a slumber, Kristina curled up against her pillow and tucked her hands under her cheek. She took a deep breath and giggled to herself. Parker's scent was still on her hand.


	8. Chapter 8

"What are you having?" the Barista asked Kristina.

She ordered a medium double espresso shot soy latte and joined her friends at the table they had secured by the coffee shop window. It was late Friday afternoon some time between twilight and when the bar signs along Main Street flickered on. The cafe was bustling with students who had just finished their classes and were making plans to hit the clubs later that night or plans for the weekend.

"I'm so glad midterms are over," her first girl friend said with an anguished sigh of relief.

"Last week was the worst," her second girl friend chimed in. "Two exams on the same day, then another the very next morning. I'll be lucky if I manage to keep my C average."

"I think I like, blew Professor Forsyth's exam," a guy friend said.

The mention of Parker's name made Kristina's heart jump.

"It wasn't that bad," Kristina said. "What section are you in?"

"Tuesdays," the guy friend said. "Anyway doesn't make a difference. Rumor has it that favors go a long way with her if they're packaged in a miniskirt."

"What?" Kristina asked alarmed.

"Don't you know?" the second girl friend asked matter-of-fact.

"Speaking of who...," the first girl friend nudged Kristina and pointed to the other end of the cafe.

In a booth for two, Parker sat alone in a quiet corner of the cafe focused on her iPad. She perused through a slim stack of notes beside her, then started typing. Kristina had already forgotten what she and her friends had been talking about.

"I'll be right back," Kristina said getting up. "Bathroom."

In the restroom, Kristina used the bright white lights to inspect every inch of herself. She finger combed her hair in place, adjusted her blouse, her skirt. She checked her teeth for food remnants, blew her breath into her cupped hands, and reapplied a little lip gloss. She was ready.

Upon leaving the bathroom, Kristina took a detour away from her friends and went around the back of the cafe so that she'd have to walk by Parker.

"Kristina?" she heard Parker say as she walked past the booth.

 _Yes!_ Kristina's thoughts did a happy dance.

"Hey," Kristina said to Parker acting surprised to see her. "What are you doing here? This doesn't seem like the type of place I'd think to find you being all 'professory' in."

Kristina kicked herself on the inside for sounding so ridiculous.

"Well, I come here every Friday after class," Parker explained. "Well after faculty meeting, that is. I like to get my finger on the pulse of what's going on with my students. It helps me plan my curriculum, create my reading list. It's also a change of scene. I get tired of feeling like I'm in a 3-walled fish bowl all week. Also they serve really good fair trade coffee her. Why don't I get you a cup. Sit down."

Kristina looked over at her friends across the cafe who were engaged in conversation. They didn't notice who Kristina was talking to. They also didn't notice that Kristina was in no hurry to leave Parker either. But Kristina didn't want her friends to see her with Parker. She didn't want them to see how she looked at Parker or how Parker looked at her. She especially didn't want them to see Parker touch her. It wasn't their seeing teacher-student contact that bothered her, it was how Kristina felt when the contact was made.

"I'm actually with some friends," Kristina answered.

"I see," Parker said. Did Kristina detect a hint of disappointment in Parker's voice?

Kristina turned around to walk back to her friends but something didn't feel right. Something was nagging at her, she had something to say. Kristina faced Parker again and asked, "Can I meet you here next Friday?"

"Of course! Of course you can," Parker said as a smile spread across her face. "Then it's a - "

Kristina gasped on the inside.

"Then it's a coffee," Parker corrected herself.


	9. Chapter 9

_Fridays with Parker,_ was what Kristina had secretly named their coffees together. She never told Parker because it implied the tragic theme of a similarly named novel* and Parker wasn't dying by any means. It was exactly the opposite. Parker was a source of everything that was good - buoyant - about living.

From the very first day Kristina heard Parker say that quote in class - words that really spoke to the very core of her - something had changed in Kristina and the change was epic. It was an awakening, like a part of Kristina that she never knew existed was suddenly released. It ran free and wild and had a spirit of its own that made Kristina unconquerable. It was a new power to be everything she was meant to be; to feel everything she was meant to feel. Parker gave her that and Kristina couldn't let go of her gift. And every time they met for coffee, it always amazed Kristina how many more boxes of discovery were nested in it.

They had met several Fridays in a row and Kristina had written a diary entry for each one. She always arrived earlier than their scheduled time so she could watch Parker walk into the coffee shop. A routine developed when Kristina got there; order a double espresso soy latte for her and a steaming bold coffee for Parker ("Make it extra hot," she told the Barista), settle into the booth for two, set up her iPad and keyboard, place their coffees to the right of it, place the books she researched to discuss on her left (Parker's right), check her phone for the time, then look toward the entrance on 3-2-1.

Parker entered, smiled and waved to Kristina from the coffee shop door. Kristina had seen Parker earlier that day in class, but she looked different now, fresher, prettier, even her clothes looked sharper. Her stride toward the booth was long and direct but to Kristina, every step Parker took was in slow motion.

During their first meetings they sat across from each other. It was exciting for Kristina to look in Parker's eyes this close. In class, Parker was for everyone, at coffee she was just Kristina's. Her and Parker. Parker and her. It's like the whole world fell away; the hissing cappuccino maker, the chalked sign boards, the tippity tap of keyboards, the steady hum of conversation, the clink of ceramic mugs and plates. Everything. gone. There was only Parker and the sky.

"' **Whatever is done for love always occurs beyond good and evil.'** " Parker said waiting for Kristina to process the aphorism.

"Okay, we did this. You gave us a reading a couple of weeks ago," Kristina said. She stared out the window for a moment, then it gradually came to her. "It has a nihilist ring to it, that philosophical thingy you talked about. This quote throws out the commonly accepted idea that anything done in the name of love is ultimately good...Nee-something...it's uh...Nietzsche!"

"I think you're the only student this semester who really gets this and who's really excited about it, too. Now what does it mean to you?" Parker challenged.

"Oh, that's easy," Kristina said flippantly. She reflected on Ethan, Keifer, Trey, and her time in jail for attempting to murder Connie. "That's my life."

Parker raised an eyebrow with an air of curiosity and Kristina poured out her story at Parker's feet. Kristina trusted that nothing would change between them regardless of what she said.

On another coffee Friday, Kristina arrived after Parker for a change, but for good reason. Parker could see Kristina beaming all the way from the cafe's entrance and it matched the spirit in which she bounced into their booth.

"Look what I have," Kristina sing-sang as she pulled a book out of her bag and held it close to her chest concealing its title. "Remember you were talking about wanting to get a copy of 'The Act of Creation' by Koestler but it was out of print?"

Kristina turned the book around to show the treasure she had found.

"How did you get that?" Parker said in awe. "The first edition hasn't been run since the 1960's."

"Let's just say I know people, who know people."

"You're definitely resourceful," Parker said, examining the book in disbelief. "So really, tell me how you did it."

Kristina said nothing and instead responded with a knowing smile; she was quite pleased with herself. The genuine admiration in Parker's face confirmed that she should be.

* * *

* "Tuesdays with Morrie" by Mitch Albom


	10. Chapter 10

Every Friday they met, Kristina's eyes had a new light in them, her face a fresh glow. And Parker's smile...Kristina suddenly noticed Parker's smile and she liked it very much. Parker didn't smile like this in class or laugh like this. Rays formed at the corners of Parker's eyes, her tongue was so pink and her teeth in perfect order. With the laughter, a coffee aroma on Parker's breath often traveled across the space between them. Kristina liked that too. She now associated the smell of sipped coffee with her moments with Parker; shared ideas, expanding her mind, challenging her beliefs. Coffee would never just smell like coffee again.

"This one's a Roman Payne," Parker said, reading from her iPad.

"Again?" Kristina feigned boredom.

"Well, it was his quote that caught your attention the first time."

Kristina blushed. _No it wasn't. You did._

"It says," Parker read, " **'...you must risk everything for Freedom, and give everything for Passion, loving everything that your hearts and your bodies love.'** " Parker stopped and her eyebrows raised with surprised. "Oh my. I think you should read the rest of this yourself."

Parker tapped the spot next to her.

They were in their usual seats, across from each other in the booth made for two. It was designed for two people facing each other and, perhaps 1½ people seated side-by-side, but Parker invited Kristina to her side anyway. She shifted over as much as she could so Kristina could comfortably squeeze in beside her. Their light attire left much of their skin exposed so their bare thighs touched - pressed against each other - their upper arms as well.

 _Like milk. A glass of warm milk._

Kristina read under her breath while Parker read aloud, " **'The only thing higher for a girl and more sacred for a young woman than her freedom and her passion should be her desire to make her life into poetry, surrendering everything she has to create a life as beautiful as the dreams that dance in her imagination.'** "

Kristina wasn't reading anymore; she wasn't listening anymore. All she saw were the lines in Parker's neck; ageless lines, fluid lines. Kristina counted each one of them by mouthing the numbers on her lips. Her lips were so close to those lines.

"Is everything okay?" Parker asked, suddenly looking right at Kristina.

Their gaze spanned a bridge of longing, the distance of one breath away.

"Yes?", Kristina said with uncertainty, then, "Yes! I just...I just feel so…I don't know. I don't know!"

Kristina trembled with an unfettered zeal. _Her eyes. Soft cheek. Her lips. Kiss..._

Sitting that close, Parker finally saw the reflection that Kristina saw of her. Through Kristina's eyes, Parker saw herself anew, as light, as inspiration, as promise; attractive. It had been a long time since Parker had someone look at her like that, not since she had met Amanda.

"I don't know either, Kristina but it's written all over your face…" Parker paused to measure the consequence of what she was about the say. "Your honest...beautiful face."


	11. Chapter 11

_I must be lost,_ Kristina wondered.

"Your des-tin-a-tion's in 500 feet," the GPS reported.

It was sunset when Kristina slowed down her car so she wouldn't pass the building she was looking for. The sun and moon still shared the sky, the call of night birds signaled a day almost over, and squirrels followed each other up trunks to turn in for the night. She had just turned onto a tree-lined street with Cape Cod and Tudor homes fit with manicured lawns, driveways filled with cars, and where dog walkers strolled after dinner. The occasional child's bike leaned against a garage door and bird feeders hung from porches.

It didn't look like an annex of a College campus could be located here. Yet, during their coffee the Friday before, Parker had told Kristina, "I have an amazing collection of books about this topic in my other office. You should come by." Then she wrote the address on a napkin.

Maybe the GPS was wrong. Bringing her car to a slow roll, Kristina tapped the navigator's screen to ensure she had entered the correct address.

 _Is that…Parker's car?_

Kristina idled her car and rustled through her bag to find the marked up napkin she had neatly folded away. She double checked Parker's handwritten address, then looked at the matching one on...the house?

A flock of birds released in Kristina's stomach and fluttered up into her throat. Her seatbelt suddenly felt tight and constrained against her chest.

Her _house!_

"When you get there, park on the street," Kristina recalled Parker instructing her, "then walk to the building at the back."

Every step Kristina took up Parker's driveway was laden with uncertainty. She wanted to sit back in her car and wait for the butterflies to settle down in her stomach. A house was so personal, so...intimate. Had they gotten that close? Kristina wanted to collect herself and understand what was going on. But instead, she got her bearings and walked up the driveway past two cars parked side by side - Parker's and another - then walked along a stone pathway that gently curved around the back of the house. A quaint, one room cottage came into view.

The cottage door swung open before Kristina reached it and Parker stood there assured and expectant - like she had been waiting there all along. She studied Kristina's approach.

"You found it," Parker said with a smile.

There was a hesitation in the doorway; an awkward moment of impulse and restraint between the two of them. An invisible barrier of self-consciousness halted Parker from kissing Kristina on the cheek like a long-time friend. The gesture could be misconstrued; the act, a prelude to other impulses Parker needed to keep at bay. Kristina merely sensed Parker's intention and was drawn to receive a kiss but, instead, she dipped her head and slipped past Parker believing that she had misunderstood. But there was no misunderstanding. They both understood. No words were needed.

Kristina felt warm the minute she entered. Not room temperature warm but the type of warm that starts from somewhere inside - in that place called 'familiar' and radiates from there - connecting her to everything in the room because they're Parker's.

"So this is your other office," Kristina said examining the space.

"Did you have trouble finding it?" Parker asked.

Kristina shakes her head. "I just wasn't expecting it to be - "

"My home?"

"Ya...your home."

There was a palpable awareness that something had shifted between the two of them. From teacher/student to friends to...neither of them could put a finger on what was happening or what they were at that split second.

Decorated in warm colors, the office was open and well-lit. The setting sun spread a glowing aura across one side of the room outlining everything that made the space uniquely Parker's. Without invitation, Kristina browsed the office touching everything she saw. Later, back at her place and alone in her room, her fingers would serve as a memory of everything she touched; a dark wood desk, a laptop, a desk lamp, a leather arm chair and ottoman, a standing lamp. Framed degrees and pictures on the wall. A set of golf clubs; a stodgy activity Kristina could never imagine Parker playing. Built-in bookshelves with hundreds of books soldiered side by side. Kristina ran her finger along the spines of "Sexual Politics", "The Second Sex", "The Claudine Series", "The Autobiography of Heidi B. Toklas". Some of the books were tomes; thick and heavy with gold or dark, engraved lettering. Kristina almost missed seeing another desk tucked away in a small alcove toward the back of the cottage. The space felt inviting. A welcome place to read, to write, to contemplate; not dry and contrived like Parker's College office. Parker patiently watched Kristina explore.

"That's some collection," Kristina remarked. "I see why you asked me over. You could never fit all of those books in your office at school."

"I wish I could," Parker said reflecting on the years and history harbored on the shelves. "But having you here, sharing this with you, means a lot to me. There's so much more you can learn."

Kristina turned to Parker and said, "There's so much more you can teach me here than I could ever learn at school."

Unknowingly, Kristina's finger had stopped to rest on the spine of "Olivia".

With every passing second, Parker absorbed how Kristina fit into her sanctuary; how she moved around her office with ease, handled things as if they were hers, and leaned against the desk.

"Do you like to travel?" Kristina asked picking up a framed picture of Parker and a woman standing side by side in front of the Parthenon. "Greece?"

"Yes," Parker answered. "I do."

"With your sister?"

"No," Parker said. "My wife."

Suddenly light-headed, Kristina steadied her hand on the desk. She swooned, hoping that it wasn't noticeable. She thought she heard Parker say "my wife". She must have heard incorrectly. Parker must have said "my LIFE", like her sister meant a lot to her or something. Of course it was a misunderstanding because if Parker was married to a woman that meant she was…

Kristina didn't even have time to swerve out of the way of this monumental paradigm shift which crashed right into her reality. An unexpected and jarring impact that winded her. Her heart pounded loudly in her ears, her vision blurred, she couldn't feel herself anymore; she was numb and ...her heart. Did it just shatter into a million pieces? She was too paralyzed to salvage them.

Her poem. The poem she wrote. The one she read to Parker when they were alone in the classroom.

 _THAT type of destructive, unexpected force, was needed, fated, to awaken a type of yearning_

Is this what it meant? Because at that moment, Kristina felt broken, in pieces, like a mangled piece of wreckage yet, at the same time, everything - everything about what she had been feeling and every feeling she had for Parker - started. to make. sense.

"That's my wife," Parker repeated, thinking Kristina hadn't heard her. All the color had drained from Kristina's face. She just stood there, vacant.

"We've been married since 2015 when the Supreme Court passed the same-sex marriage laws," Parker continued in order to fill the weighted silence that had fallen between them. "Officially married. We've been together much longer than that."

"Oh," barely crackled out of Kristina's throat. It was the only response she could manage to eek out from the rubble; she felt demolished.

Parker's left hand looked bigger than ever, especially with the two rings looming there. Two rings Kristina was seeing for the first time. She wondered why she never noticed them before. Kristina recalls every single time Parker touched her...touched her with her right hand. Of course! She's right-handed - never left - that's why Kristina never saw the rings or...was it because she never wanted to see the rings?

And in that instant, Kristina's lush fantasies turned to dust. Confusion, anger, and betrayal accumulated like tumbleweed. Parker lead her on. Kristina felt set up; she saw red. Hate seethed for this 'wife' who had been hidden for weeks, for months. How dare she show up now when Kristina was this close - this close - to Parker. A whirlwind of feelings stirred an uncontrollable, nervous laugh out of Kristina.

"Did I say something funny?" Parker asked. As much as she wanted to portray an air of detachment, Parker's defenses rose.

"No, it's just…," Kristina tried to regain her composure. "You never mentioned this...this...You never mentioned her. I mean, her, your wife."

Kristina practically stumbled over her own tongue saying, 'your wife'; it left a rancid taste in her mouth.

"I've never had any reason to," Parker explained. "I keep my private life private, Kristina. It's very rare that I allow students to get this close."

"Then, why me?"

"You're not like my other students, Kristina. You never will be."


	12. Chapter 12

It took a moment for Kristina to absorb what Parker said. Like there was something more she implied by, "You'll never be like my other students." Kristina stood restless in the awkward yet auspicious silence that followed. There was surely something else about what was happening between them that Parker wasn't saying.

The framed picture of Parker and her wife had fallen askew on the desk; no longer stable and upright on its triangle stand. Kristina didn't realize it had slipped out of her hand. And when she did notice, she didn't bother righting it. Their picture just lay there, face down, out of sight; exactly how Kristina wanted Parker and her wife's relationship to remain.

To mask her agitation, Kristina resumed browsing the office. But this time, not with the confidence and assurance she had when she first walked in and believed that she and Parker alone would share this space together. Now Kristina knew it was already taken. Instead, the browsing was a distraction from her spinning thoughts, frustration, and disappointment.

Kristina also needed to move about in order to create a distance between her and Parker - as much of a physical distance as the news of 'the wife' created an emotional chasm in her.

Kristina took a closer look at the spines of the thick, heavy tomes that had an immovable presence on Parker's bookshelves,"Physicians Quality Reporting Guide", "Merck Manual of Diagnosis and Therapy". The golf club carrier and iron covers were monogrammed with 'AF'. The degrees on the wall included Parker's Doctorate and a 'Medicinae Doctor' degree that was clearly 'the wife's'. One of the 'pictures' was actually their framed wedding vows on parchment ("...forever faithful to you as the sun is to rising in the East; as the caterpillar is destined to become a butterfly...).

"So what's marriage like?" Kristina asked to break the silence.

Kristina didn't care. She didn't want to know. But Kristina's curiosity reared its head like not wanting to stare at the carnage of a fatal accident but not being able to turn her eyes away. She cringed at the thought of Parker flourishing about how perfect it was and beautiful it was, and, worst of all, how happy they were. What Kristina really wanted to ask was, 'What's it like to be married to a woman?' Kristina still didn't care to know. She didn't wear envy well.

"It's a wonderful journey of growth and discovery with a lot of unknowns," Parker answered. "You just set out with the intention that you're going to make it together."

"And then you hope for the best?" Kristina asked.

Parker forced a strained and inauthentic smile.

During this disquieting pause, it suddenly dawned on Kristina; the two cars in the driveway, the desk in the alcove, they were all 'the wife'. Everything that Kristina had touched earlier - items she had run her fingers across - felt icky. It wasn't just Parker she'd take home with her; 'the wife's' grime was on her too.

"Does she make you happy?" Kristina reluctantly asked.

"Well, that's not her responsibility, to make me happy, that is," Parker answered. "We're aware of what makes each other happy, where we derive our passion from, and we do everything we can to support each other."

Casually turning her back to Parker, Kristina dared to ask, "And what if…what if the focus of your passion changes? Then what?"

Parker's face fell just before she adjusted her posture with discomfort in a way that was unusual and unlike the unflappable air she always maintained. She tucked her hands in her pockets and moved to a different part of the office, further distancing herself from Kristina. Even in the limited space, Parker and Kristina managed to force a separation between themselves despite how strong they were drawn together.

"We communicate," Parker answered. "We talk about our new needs. We figure out where they fit with each of us. It's the only way we'll work as a couple. We tell each other everything."

"Everything?"

"Are you implying something, Kristina?" Parker asked defensively.

Startled by the firmness in Parker's voice, Kristina's hand leapt off an award for "Teaching Excellence" that she was about to pick up. She abruptly turned to face Parker.

"No," Kristina responded in retreat. "Just curious, that's all."

"Is my being married to a woman or my being a lesbian making you uncomfortable?"

"No! No, not at all." Kristina said. But there was a lie in Kristina's response. She couldn't figure out what part of Parker's question she was lying to. She wondered if jealousy was a type of lie or if it was a type of anger. "I just want to know if you're happy."

"You can rest assured, I am," Parker said unconvincingly.

The windows had turned black with night; their French cross hatch now a tic-tac-toe grid against a dark background. Neither of them noticed how much time had gone by or how much time they had spent caught in their unique brand of tug-of-war. Outside, the street lamps cast halos on lawns and car tops.

"What's it like…?" Kristina gingerly asked.

Parker patiently waited for Kristina to complete her question.

"...with a woman," Kristina finally blurted. "What's it like with a woman?"

Parker paused for a moment, taken aback by Kristina's indirect question to the inevitable conversation she knew their time together was leading to. It still surprised Parker to realize that they were here, about to talk about this. To stall the conversation, Parker wondered if she should ask Kristina to clarify exactly what she meant. Would Kristina have the nerve?

But Parker knew exactly what Kristina wanted to know, "What's it like to have sex with a woman?" The very thought of Kristina asking the question aloud made Parker squirm on the inside. Would pushing Kristina to say those words cross a line in their teacher-student relationship? Had Parker already crossed it by merely inviting Kristina here? Why was her heart racing?

By now, Parker even knew why Kristina wanted to know. It was a languid ivy that had been growing about them for weeks; creeping and entwining their curiosity. For Kristina the experience would be a first; for Parker, infidelity would be unchartered territory. But not here, not now. Perhaps it would never be at all; forever remaining an unrequited longing.

"It's...different. Like coming home. At least it was for me," Parker explained. "Nothing I had ever felt before up until that point in my life. It's tender...sometimes, not so tender when it needs to be. It was an awakening on so many levels. An awakening of my integrity. An awakening to a woman's touch; someone who knows your body as well - sometimes better - than you know it yourself. "

A warm flush came over Kristina at the imagery Parker's words conjured.

"At the time," Parker continued, "it was the biggest life-changing 'aha!' moment I had ever had. And then everything suddenly made sense; my childhood, my teenage years, all those awkward moments, feelings I couldn't understand or explain and was convinced I was the only person on earth who felt that way. Being with a woman...well, then everything fit into place and felt...right."

Lost in the retelling of her story, Parker gazed into the past like she was watching herself relive that very moment. Parker noticed the fallen picture of her and Amanda. To Kristina's dismay, Parker returned the frame to its upright position.

'This wife' would always be in Parker's life longer than any time Kristina could ever hope for. Kristina despised her, whoever she was. Kristina almost wished Parker had never mentioned 'the wife' and had kept her a secret, whether Parker intended to or not. Parker's mention of her, acknowledgement of her - the reality that 'this wife' had more significance in Parker's life than Kristina - made 'this wife' feel like an intruder. Kristina hated her.

"Does being with a woman feel like that all the time?" Kristina asked.

"Of course not," Parker said. "Like any connection or relationship, it has its ebbs and flows. You just learn how to be creative."

"I'm creative," Kristina coyishly responded.

Flattered by Kristina's implicit flirtation, Parker chuckled, "I'm sure you are Kristina. You _are_ one of my most resourceful students. The only one in a long time."

Outside, a car engine started. Its headlights flashing into the office for a brief second before it backed out of the driveway. Parker pulled back the curtains to watch the car - the one that had been parked beside hers - drive out of sight.

When Parker was assured that the driver wouldn't return, she said to Kristina, "Give me a minute, I want to get a book from the house for you."

But when Parker reached the office door to leave, she changed her mind.

"Actually," Parker said facing Kristina to ensure she had her full attention, "why don't you just come inside."


	13. Chapter 13

"So where is she?" Kristina asked.

"Excuse me?" Parker responded

"Your wife. Is she home?" Kristina insisted. "Do I get to meet her?"

A spectre of guilt distorted Parker's perception of Kristina's feigned interest. Distracted by her decision to invite Kristina into her and Amanda's home, Parker didn't catch the sarcasm in Kristina's voice nor did she notice Kristina roll her eyes.

"She works nights at the hospital," Parker said. "It's a 12-hour shift."

Parker looked about the living room searching for something to tidy up, to put away. She pictured herself grabbing the book she wanted and sending Kristina off with it; home, out of hers. But she didn't.

"In the E.R.?" Kristina asked.

"Yes, she specializes in head trauma."

"Of course she does," Kristina mumbled. It was exactly what 'the wife' was causing Kristina at that very moment.

Parker's home was everything Kristina expected it to be; inviting, orderly. It was the type of home where you didn't want your visit to end once you settled into the comfort of their warm, brown leather couch. Yes, their home was one of those places where engaging conversations happened with intellectuals and artists during a dinner party that started with aperitifs, ended with after dinner coffee and was filled with genteel laughter, wine glasses replenished in white and red, and aged cheeses in between.

Several pictures of Parker and her wife crowded the mantle. Kristina turned her back to them. They made her skin crawl, her ire rise. A ceramic mug with stains tracked in its veins and a film of leftover coffee sat atop a folded copy of _The_ _New York Times_. The coffee still looked warm to Kristina, like 'the wife' would come back into the room at any moment to finish it.

"Can I offer you something to drink?" Parker asked. She picked up the coffee mug that Kristina inadvertently pointed out with her stare. Parker tucked the mug and the newspaper into a semi-hidden nook. "I should have offered you something earlier. We have water, sparkling water, juice, soda..."

' _We_ ' Kristina scoffed on the inside.

Her mind had been set the minute Kristina walked into the living room. She needed something to settle her nerves, to temper her agitation, and she found it on a shelf just above a closed cabinet.

 _Pinot. Sauvignon. Chiraz_.

Kristina opened the cabinet doors.

 _Rum. Bourbon. Whiskey….there it is._

"Isn't that weird," Kristina said seizing a bottle of Scotch by it's neck. "It's exactly what my Dad drinks."

"Kristina, you can't…," Parker started to say but realized that Kristina was completely ignoring her as she unscrewed the cap and poured herself a drink. She then filled another glass which she extended to Parker.

The audacity. The irreverence. Parker studied Kristina, amazed and profoundly interested. The amber drink was suspended in midair by a lure that even Parker resisted to resist. She cocked her head, raised an eyebrow.

Impatiently waiting for Parker to accept her shameless invitation, Kristina left the glass on the cabinet's ledge and nestled herself in the warm, brown leather couch. Parker watched her do it. Walk past her. Every step. Every movement. Kristina walked into and through Parker's personal space. Her arm brushed against her teacher's blouse but Parker didn't bother to move out of the way. The shampoo scent in Kristina's hair teased at Parker's senses, just like Kristina's swinging gait which Parker had never noticed before. And she wouldn't forget it now.

Parker browsed a bookshelf in the corner of her living room and pulled out a selection.

"I think this'll interest you," Parker said handing the book to Kristina. "Read from the dog-eared page to me. "

Parker didn't recall when she decided to pick up the glass of Scotch Kristina had poured for her, nor did she recall deciding to ignore it. All she knew is that the glass was in her hand, still warm from Kristina's grip, and she was nestled at the other end of the brown leather couch entranced by the student she was destined to teach who was about to give Parker a lesson of her own; an impromptu lesson in seduction.

Kristina read the passage, " **'...but my favourite would always be one I could look at without letting her out of the compass of my eye...** (i) **' '...I think the passion that devoured me at that time was the passion of curiosity.'** (ii)"

Kristina looked up and paused before she said the word, "curiosity" - deliberately, slowly, with the gradual realization that this was about her. Their eyes met.

"Louder," Parker said. "So I can hear you."

Kristina continued, " **'...I met the others and they made no impression on me at all. I only wanted her...Wanted her seriously and not merely to trifle. Loving her, sliding deeper and deeper into loving her, the improbable choice, her age, her looks new to me…'** (iii)"

Kristina read the words with her eyes. She read the intimacy of being in Parker's house, on her couch, just one bold movement away from her. Kristina read the self-consciousness of being watched, evaluated...explored.

"' **...the fire burning in the big room...nights once, or afternoons, long late mornings of being every experiment in the great mahogany bed.'** (iv)"

Even with her focus on the pages before her - reading them, turning them, searching for the next meaning - Kristina felt Parker exploring her.

"' **...the most private of names, the dearest and most secret. Pronouncing it like a kiss, the sound in the mouth like lips grazing over soft flesh.'** (v) **"**

Kristina was unprepared to read with her body.

"' **Remembering now how she enters me...her fingers at the core and center of consciousness, places within me I knew not…'** (vi) **"**

A quiver seized Kristina in parts of her she didn't know could quiver.

"' **At first I thought I could not endure it, completely unused to that force...I didn't understand that a woman could even be that strong. That fierce, that passionate…her long, slender, most beautiful hands. After that I was hooked. After that there was no going back.'** (vii) **"**

* * *

i. Strachey, Dorothy (1949) _Olivia_. Berkeley, CA. Cleis Press. p. 43

ii. Ibid. p. 46

iii. Millett, Kate (1977) _Sita_. New York, NY. Touchstone/Simon  & Schuster. pp. 20-21

iv. Ibid. p. 8

v. Ibid. p. 9

vi. Ibid. p. 22

vii. Ibid pp. 21-22


	14. Chapter 14

Every word Kristina read was true, not just for the author, but for her right at that moment. A thirst built up in her. A thirst that no ounce of Scotch - or any other beverage Parker had offered - was going to quench. The only thing Parker could offer at that moment to satisfy Kristina was...Kristina gulped. Every inch of her perked up. Every. Inch. She crossed her legs, squeezing her thighs together against a delicious seeping, heat.

God, she had never wanted someone like this before; she had never wanted more than to have this woman take her right then and there.

On the other end of the couch, Parker held her glass of Scotch masterfully; her lips glistened moist with a sip she had just taken. Kristina could taste it.

"Is anything...coming up for you?" Parker asked thoughtfully - or did Kristina detect a suggestive tone in Parker's question. "You stopped reading."

Kristina took a swig of Scotch rather than answer the question. A bit dribbled down her blouse. She looked. They both looked. A button on Kristina's blouse had come undone. A hint of her bra showed, cupping a gentle, milk-white swell.

Parker held Kristina's focus, scanning her from head to toe. She saw a feisty, unapologetic young woman determined to be who she was despite the mistakes she had made, despite the people she had wronged. In Kristina, Parker also saw an opportunity to be outside of herself, a chance to turn her back on all the conventions that marriage and professorship had placed on her over the years. All those achievements that Parker had strived for yet resented because they quashed her fire; a spark that Kristina rekindled - ignited! - that made her feel alive. Kristina made Parker feel alive again.

Kristina's eyes were glazed over yet intent. Her lips slightly parted, yet still. They were more supple than Parker ever noticed before. Her thighs appeared soft to the touch. Parker didn't make any effort to avert her eyes from Kristina's open blouse which beaconed and receded with every quickening breath Kristina took. Parker's eyes lingered on Kristina's small waist. Parker looked at all of her; a twinge of arousal pierced her sense of reason.

This young woman. This tipsy young woman…was... so…vulnerable.

"We should…," Parker said as she leaned forward, inches closer to Kristina, and placed her glass of Scotch on the table.

"...we should get you home," Parker continued, seeming to shake herself out of a reverie. "It's getting late and…"

"And...what?" Kristina purred. "Twelve hours is a long shift."

' **...** _ **every experiment in the great mahogany bed…',**_ rippled the surface tension of their thoughts.

Their eyes locked on one another's in a fierce battle of will and temptation; challenge and surrender. This time, Kristina didn't break eye contact. Her sly grin was like a raised pawn preparing to checkmate.

"It's getting late," Parker said firmly, slightly raising her voice. "And I have to get up early. My wife and I have plans."

"Of course," Kristina snidely answered. She put her Scotch glass down on the coffee table with such vehemence they thought it would shatter. The harsh clink startled both of them.

Kristina wobbled as she stood up. She only had a couple of sips and couldn't understand why she felt so tipsy.

Parker reached for Kristina's arm to steady her, then a palm on the small of Kristina's back to brace her. Their angst-inspired tango made real. They now touched and that touch, touched upon the unspoken that had been building up all evening; the unspoken they felt for one another.

Parker wanted to hold Kristina close to her; wrap her arms around this aspiring student in whom she saw a promising future. A young woman she wanted to mentor and guide like Parker wished she had been when she was going through her own journey of self discovery. Kristina wanted Parker to hold her too but the way couples do just before they start making love.

Parker snapped her hands off Kristina's body like she had been burned.

"I'll drive you home," Parker said, looking about for her car keys.

"Don't bother I barely drank anything," Kristina said as she shouldered her way past Parker and stomped to the front door. Kristina handled the knob but couldn't turn it to leave.

"Then let me call you a cab," Parker said, knowing at that moment, with the way they were both feeling, it was better to concede the offer to drive her home. Parker couldn't stand being alone in the same space with Kristina any longer for the same reason that she wanted to be alone in the same space with Kristina.

"You can take the book with you," Parker offered, hesitant, wondering if she had already proposed too much.

Defiant, Kristina abruptly turned the knob to let herself out. The door clicked open but Kristina just stood there, angry and frustrated. Angry that she didn't get the response she wanted and frustrated that she didn't get the release she needed; the release she so badly wanted Parker to give her. A borrowed book felt like a pathetic loser, consolation.

' **Remembering now how she enters me...her fingers at the core and center of consciousness, places within me I knew not…After that there was no going back.'**

Seething with unacknowledged entitlement, Kristina stomped back into the living room, grabbed the book, then let herself out of Parker's house with a dissatisfied slam.


	15. Chapter 15

They hadn't seen each other since the door slammed shut between them. An abrupt end to the start of something that was getting out of their control. At times the sound of the slam startled them out of a deep sleep; the memory of its anger punched through their dreams. The memory of how they felt on either side of the door left their bellies hollow; their pulse pounding in their ears.

They hadn't seen each other all week. Not on the usual path on campus where one ran in the mornings while the other turned her head to watch from a distance. They didn't meet during office hours. One had cancelled hours that week. The other received the message only after hearing her own desperate knocks echo back at her from behind the empty office door. Their cars were parked in different lots - one for faculty and the other for students - but they didn't see each other's cars in their usual spots. They didn't see each other on campus at all until Kristina showed up for class the following Friday.

"We need to talk," Parker said.

Students filed past as they headed to their other classes when the end of period buzzer sounded. Parker's words stung Kristina's ears before she saw Parker's lips move. Kristina had been looking into Parker's eyes as she made her way to the front of the classroom. Kristina wasn't ready to leave; she hung back and let her peers shuffle ahead of her. She had waited all week to see the glint that was in Parker's eye the other night. She had been dying to see it all week just to confirm what she felt that night between them was real.

It wasn't there.

Kristina knew they had to talk. Something happened at Parker's house that was very confusing. Kristina knew that Parker wanted to be with her as much as she wanted to be with Parker. Parker must have felt it too but she practically threw Kristina out. 'The wife' was why Parker wanted Kristina to leave. 'The wife' was why Kristina **had** to leave.

Kristina was anxious all week about meeting Parker for their Friday coffee. At least she had the book. The book had words for everything Kristina didn't understand was coming over her, described her inexplicable obsession...finger painted what she wanted Parker to do to her in copious wet color and with so many strokes. Sublime. The book Kristina reluctantly took that night reassured her, validated her, made clear all that wasn't. Kristina's view of herself was crystal before 'this' all started - whatever 'this' was. Now it was foggy, opaque and Parker was her only beacon back to herself again. But if the light was gone from Parker's eye, then what did she have left?

"Are we okay?," Kristina wrote, erased, re-wrote, and canceled in an email to Parker. With the sour taste of nausea caught in her throat, Kristina finally sent the desperate message after days of doubt had eaten away at the certainty she felt that night.

Parker never responded.

Beyond Parker not seeing the email or ignoring it, Kristina pictured Parker pressing the 'delete' button. That was the worst thought of all.

"If there's anything I did or anything I said -," Kristina started to say to Parker in the classroom. Kristina didn't care about the students who were still there packing up or waiting to ask Parker a question.

Kristina was willing to take the blame for whatever changed between them that night although she had done nothing wrong. What she felt was the closest she ever got to knowing the truth about herself but she couldn't articulate what that truth was. Kristina was willing to take the blame if it meant breaking down the barricade of awkwardness, doubt, and silence. Brick upon brick sealed with impenetrable mortar that dammed the turbulence between them. Didn't they want the same thing? Kristina felt like her dam was about to burst.

"Please, not here," Parker interrupted. "I'll be in my office at 5 o'clock.

That was their coffee time. Parker was changing their plans. Whatever gave Kristina the courage to face Parker after a long week of unknowing, crumbled.

"Keep the door open," they thought they heard a passing student snicker.

They looked away from each other; one towards despair, the other towards shame.

Kristina's stomach turned.


End file.
